


It’s Nice To Have A Friend

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [33]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Virginity, Non-Linear Narrative, Songfic, Time Skips, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 07:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20689910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: She thinks of how they’re not even supposed to be up here. About how they could be caught at any moment. How twenty questions had led to everything irrevocablychanging.Are they in love with me?Yes, he’d answered.Yes, they are.In which Rey learns it’s nice to have a friend become so much more.





	It’s Nice To Have A Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_So_Reylo/gifts).

> This is soft and sappy and entirely too fluffy but this [song](https://youtu.be/eaP1VswBF28) gives me many feels. 
> 
> For Ali, who is a goddess of Reylo and a gremlin of everything else. <3

* * *

“I asked them not to throw rice.”

Rey finds herself grinning at his disapproving tone. “It won’t hurt anything.”

“I heard it’s bad for the birds,” he grumbles. “They said they wouldn’t.”

She squeezes his much larger hand a little tighter, leaning into his shoulder as she gives another content wave to the little crowd gathered outside the car to see them off. 

“They disproved that, you know. It doesn’t hurt the birds at all.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Nope.”

His full mouth turns down in a frown, reaching over to pluck a stray kernel from her hair that is done up in an elegant twist she would never be able to pull off on her own. “It’s still a silly tradition if you ask me.”

“I don’t know…” She turns her head to let her gaze brush over the sidewalk that is littered in a spray of the little white grains that blanket it, smiling softly to herself. “It looks a little like snow.”

A church bell rings outside, and she thinks the day couldn’t be more perfect.

Rice and all.

* * *

She tucks her hand inside the little tattered jacket that is still a size too large—rubbing it against the threadbare shirt she wears for warmth. Her breath lingers in a little cloud in front of her, and she knows she should probably head back. It only seems to get colder as the sun begins to go down.

But she isn’t ready to go back to the noise and the chaos just yet—doesn’t have any desire to return to the tiny room she shares with three other kids that might not even be there at the end of the month. Outside is better. 

She uses the hand that actually still has a glove to swipe away the thin blanket of snow on the sidewalk, clearing a space so that she can continue to doodle against its surface. Her hands are practically numb now, and she’s never going to get the head quite right on this round little robot she’s determined to draw (she wishes she had orange chalk—it would look so much better in orange), but she tells herself just a little bit longer. Just a _ little _while and she’ll definitely—

“What is that supposed to be?”

She glances up from where she sits on the sidewalk at a grumpy looking boy that doesn’t look to be much older than her—even if he’s _ much _taller. His too-large ears poke out of his thick mass of dark hair, tinged pink from the cold. 

She looks back at her handiwork, thinking it's obvious. “It’s a robot.” 

“Doesn’t look like any robot I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe you haven’t seen any good ones,” she grumbles.

“I’ve seen all kinds of good ones,” he informs her. “There’s a ton in this game I’ve been playing on my PlayStation.”

Her eyes light up as she whips her head back up. “You have a Playstation?”

He nods. “You don’t?”

She looks down at her ratty shoes. “No. They don’t get cool stuff where I live.”

“Where do you live?”

Her cheeks heat despite the cold, and she keeps her face turned down to hide her embarrassment. “Nowhere special.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, and then she sees his hand—much larger than hers, jut out from her peripherals. “I’m Ben,” he tells her. She stares at his hand in confusion, and he shrugs slightly. “My Dad says you should shake someone’s hand when you first meet them.”

She pouts out her lower lip in thought, finally reaching to place the hand that isn’t covered in a snow-soaked glove in his. They’re warm, covered in a thick and soft material that looks expensive. “I’m Rey.”

His eyes fly down to her hand dwarfed in his with surprise. “Your hand is practically blue! Aren’t you freezing?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah. Lost one of my gloves. It’s no big deal.”

He frowns for a moment, thinking, and then he pulls his hand away only to tear off his own glove with his teeth. He holds it out to her in offering, and she thinks to herself that it’s the first time in her ten years that anyone has ever tried to give her something. 

“Are you sure?”

He nods. “I have more.”

She believes that, by the look of him, so she doesn’t hesitate to take what he’s offering, pulling the glove over her bare hand. It’s still warm from when he was wearing it. 

“Hey,” he continues. “Do you think your mom would care if you came over? I could show you my game. I have a neat tent in the yard that I could show you, too.”

She doesn’t tell him she doesn’t have a mom. That she doesn’t have a dad either. She doesn’t tell him that no one will even notice she’s gone. She smiles up at him instead, wondering to herself if this is what it’s like to have a friend. 

“No,” she answers softly. “No one will mind.”

* * *

She knows he didn’t want this grand affair—and that if it weren’t for his mother, they’d be in a courthouse or on a boat or maybe even in Vegas—somewhere where it was just the two of them. 

She finds she doesn’t mind the crowd, but perhaps that’s because she never had any sense of family before he came into her life. Even if most of the faces that look out from the rows of chairs belong to him, she feels like they belong to _ her _ now, too. Just as much as _ he _belongs to her. 

Just as much as she has always belonged to _ him_.

She registers that the officiant is speaking, but her attention is fixed on the man in front of her. She watches his perfect mouth repeat the words that she’s been dreaming of hearing, and by some miracle she is able to do the same when it comes her turn. 

It’s the after that she’s anxious for—that perfect moment that seals their mouths and their hearts and their _ lives— _ and her lips are on his before the pronouncement is even finished, practically lunging herself into his arms and ignoring the quiet chuckle of the crowd. The only thing she feels is his strong arms wrapped around her, the only thing she hears is that quiet _ I love you _that he murmurs against her ear when he breaks away. 

Over his shoulder, the sky has turned a light pink with the sinking sun.

Rey can’t help but think it’s fitting.

* * *

“Are you sure? I don’t want to—if it’s too weird, I can—”

She reaches to smooth the wrinkle from his brow, pressing into the skin there with her fingers before she leans up to kiss him again. “Shut up, Ben.”

He’s still touching her hand, holding it in his own just a little too tight. He hasn’t let go of it since he first grabbed it to keep her from leaving the roof—since just before he’d found the nerve to touch her. Before he’d pulled her against him and changed everything. 

She thinks of the moments that led them to this—as his breath catches and his fingers touch her in places she’s only imagined. She thinks of how they’re not even supposed to be up here. About how they could be caught at any moment. How twenty questions had led to everything irrevocably _ changing. _

_ Is it a person? _

His breath on her neck is warm and heavy, and there is nothing between them now but their skin and the cool evening air. 

_ Is it someone I know? _

He can’t stop kissing her, can’t stop _ touching _ her. She feels him thick and long and _ so hard _ between her legs—and it’s nothing like she imagined and yet somehow _ so much more _than. 

_ Do they have dark hair? _

She gasps when he begins to press inside—closing her eyes as he holds her tight—too big and too much and absolutely _ perfect. _ Her nails claw at his shoulders, and she can hear him rasping her name over and over and _ over. _

_ Are they in love with me? _

They fit together like they were always meant to, and they were, she thinks. They were always meant for this. She closes her eyes against the pink-tinged sky, burying her face in his throat. 

_ Yes, _ he’d answered. _ Yes, they are. _

* * *

She runs her hand over her hips, gliding over the silken white fabric as she stares back into the full length mirror. It’s finer than anything she’s ever worn, and she smiles to herself as she images his face when he sees her in it. She’s surprised by how calm she feels—having never felt more like she’s exactly where she should be than she does in this moment. She looks down at the sparkling stone that glints on her finger, smiling down at it. 

She thinks back to the days in the snow—both when they’d first met, and when he’d given her this ring on that same sidewalk.

_ Exactly where I should be, _she thinks.

There’s a knock at the door, and someone enters for a moment to hand her a folded piece of paper he’s sent. The little torn scrap is a remnant of old rituals from their life together. Eliciting memories of messages exchanged in classrooms and libraries and under tables and across rooms. 

_ Ready when you are, babe. _

She beams down at the note, hearing someone ask her if she’s ready. It’s incredibly easy to tell them that she is.

* * *

She lays three cards down in the pile, smirking as she confidently tells their little group: “Three Aces.”

Most of their friends immediately accept her claim, knowing by now that they shouldn’t test her. That she’s nearly impossible to beat. 

One face still watches her, eyes narrowed and obviously reluctant to move on, and she cocks an eyebrow in challenge as she silently dares him to call her bluff. She tries not to focus on how she’s recently noticed just how soft his mouth looks, or the way his dark eyes always seem to follow her, how his thick hair now covers those ears that she’s never minded. 

She finds it very hard not to focus on these things.

“Bullshit,” he says finally. 

Rey drums her fingers along the surface of the little table in the RV they’d borrowed for this little camping trip—the first outing of their senior year. “Are you sure about that, Ben?”

His lips curl in a little smile. “You don’t think I can read you, Rey?”

She keeps a straight face. He can’t, she thinks. If he could read her, he would notice how much she watches him in a way that is far from friendly. He might see just how she can’t seem to breathe when he gets too close to her now. Could possibly even see how her hands shake with a need to touch him sometimes.

His grin widens, and it’s beautiful, it’s _ breathtaking—_it takes her completely by surprise. “Bull… shit.”

Rey knows there aren’t three Aces on the table—but she still doesn’t think Ben can read her at all.

* * *

The music is soft and lilting, the lights dimmed and romantic—the entire reception beautiful and put together in a way that has his mother written all over it. There are flowers of all sizes and shapes and colors littered about the room—but Rey can’t tear her gaze from the perfectly fitted suit that is wrapped around him. Can’t seem to focus on anything else but the way he holds her close, swaying softly.

“Those dancing lessons sure paid off,” Rey laughs. “You’re hardly even stepping on my feet now.”

He rolls his eyes as he pulls her a little closer. “Can we leave yet?”

“We can’t leave our own party.”

“The logic of that seems flawed. It’s _ our _party.”

“One that your mother worked very hard on,” she reminds him.

“No one asked her to,” he grumbles. “I want to get you home.” His mouth finds her ear, his voice low and tempting as it brushes against her ear. “I want to get this dress off you.”

She shivers a little as she bites her lip. “Thirty more minutes, then we’ll tell everyone goodbye.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs, his lips settling at her jaw to linger. 

“We have time,” she sighs, turning her face to rest it against his shoulder. “We have all the time in the world.”

And they do. Have time. She can’t _ believe _ how much. 

* * *

“We have to get out of this bed at some point.”

She hears him grunt in protest, tightening his arm around her waist. They’ve hardly moved all weekend—reveling in the relief of impending winter vacation where there are no more classes or finals or God knows what else for a short time. 

“That’s debatable,” he says finally.

“We haven’t even packed yet.”

“You don’t need to pack.”

“Are you suggesting I just walk around your parent’s house naked?”

“You should walk around _ everywhere _naked.”

“Oh really?” She tosses the sheet aside, crossing her ankles and folding her hands behind her head as she haughtily stretches out. “You’d be okay with everyone seeing me like this?”

He raises up his head, eyes turning considerably darker as they rake down her naked body—some rumbling sound in his chest as he leans over to let his nose brush down her sternum. As he mouths at the soft swell of her breast. She can feel his fingers trailing over her belly, between her legs—sliding over the soft skin there that is still wet with his come. 

“No.” He drags a finger through the sticky mess he made, sliding higher through her slit before returning to let the thick digit slip deep inside her. “No, I wouldn’t.”

She lets her fingers card through his hair as he tilts his head, resting his chin against her chest, his normally chocolate brown eyes almost black. 

“That’s what I thought,” she answers breathlessly. 

He’s already withdrawing his hand to move over her—his cock hard against her thigh even though he had her just a little while ago. She feels it slot against her cunt in a heavy slide as his large hand covers the entire expense of her hip—and her breath catches as she feels him nudging at her entrance. As he begins to press inside, aided by his own slick remnants as he fills her and _ fills _her. 

“Fine,” he says tightly. “I’ll let you pack.” He ducks to press a kiss at her jaw that’s too heavy, too _ suggestive_—and she tilts her hips to take in more of him. “Eventually.”

She’s stretched and a little sore and functioning on very little sleep, but as he begins to move, as he begins to rock into her with a steady rhythm that is unhurried and savoring and almost _ reverent—_Rey can’t find it in her to complain.

* * *

He lifts her like she’s nothing—scooping her into his arms before they’ve even reached the front door of the little bungalow that is far smaller than she feels Ben wanted their home to be. Rey persuaded him by promising to christen every surface as many times as he wanted. 

His strong arms keep her aloft, hers looped around his neck as he beams down at her, standing on their porch and looking as if he has everything he’s ever wanted. 

She knows the feeling.

“Finally.” She feels his thumb stroking back and forth along her bare arm, another just below her knee as it slides over the bit of skin that peeks out from the bunched fabric of her dress. “I thought I’d never get you home.”

“Someone’s impatient,” she teases.

“We have… a _ lot _of time before we fly out for the honeymoon tomorrow. I plan to make good use of it.”

She pretends to be put out, sighing heavily. “Well, if I _ have _to.”

His hand moves to squeeze at her thigh, drawing out a squeal from her. He’s grinning as he leans in to kiss her, his mouth resting against hers. “Welcome home, Mrs. Solo.”

Her heart is full, as he turns the doorknob, as he brings them inside—because she is. Home, that is. But it isn’t the walls or the roof or shudders or the hardwood—it’s his voice and his hands and his dry humor and his dirty mouth. It’s their past and their future and their _ life _together. It’s just him, she thinks. 

He’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> The [card game](http://www.52pickup.net/card-games/bullshit/) is real if you’ve never played it! I’m terrible at it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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